Mother May I?
by restlessxpen
Summary: Fresh from their wedding day, Edward and Bella are eager to indulge in the one thing they've been putting off, but Esme just as desperately wants someone to enjoy her Mushroom Ravioli. *Entry for the Wrong Kind of Monster in Law contest


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The Wrong Kind of Monster…In-law Contest

Title:

Mother May I?

**Name:** restlessxpen

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Pairing: BellaxEdward

Rating: M

Disclaimer: These characters and related material belong to Stephenie Meyer.  
For additional contest entries, please visit: www . /u/2326991/Monster-In-Law_Contest

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Her eyes were brown like chocolate ready to be eaten. When he trailed his tongue across the tender flesh of her neck, he could taste the chocolate there, the way it seemed to melt against his tongue. It'd been centuries since the last time he had _tasted_ chocolate, and it was plausible that he only _thought _that he could remember the taste, but Edward Cullen was convinced that it was one flavor he had never forgotten. It mingled with the strawberry scent of her hair and slid thickly down his throat like expensive wine with each sniff or lick he took.

"Bella," he growled against the base of her neck.

The tiny human strained against him, her buttocks pressed firmly into the marble sink in the bathroom. She was pinned between two slates of marble—no escape—and the helplessness was almost as arousing as the lust-filled aroma of her scent, as the little gasps that slipped past her lips to taste the air. He could feel her heart pounding against his chest.

His instincts wanted to label it as fear, as the dawning sense of terror that came to all prey when they knew that they had been fatally cornered, but his echoing memory of a heart—his own that had faded years and years ago—knew that her pulse throbbed in anticipation, not fear.

He wanted to continue to sample her, to work his way to the main course, to the forbidden dessert he had told himself he would never taste. In a few hours, they would leave for their honeymoon, and all of his willpower would be tested as he attempted to give Bella the wedding gift she demanded.

They were still fresh from the wedding. He could still clearly picture her in the white dress that she had shed barely a day ago. Though he was horrified by the approaching date of their solitary trip to Isle Esme, by the idea that there was a large, four-poster bed that he was certain Bella would want to make good use of, he found that his fear was hard to recall when he was so dangerously imbalanced by her scent.

Would it be criminal to cave to his desires early? To the desires that he was so apprehensive about clenching on the day of their looming honeymoon? Bella Swan—_Cullen_, he corrected, feeling a twist of satisfaction in his gut—was as alluring as ever. When she'd asked to speak to him privately in the bathroom, he hadn't gone into the small space considering the idea that it would be difficult to be enclosed in such a perimeter with her.

She'd barely begun to open her mouth, to voice whatever had troubled her, when he'd felt uncontrollably drawn to her in a very physical way. Someone else had inhabited his body for the few, short seconds it had taken to pin her against the sink, to nestle his face in the crook of her neck. He'd pressed her at an odd angle, and the neck of her blouse had strained open, exposing the gentle swells of the tops of her breasts. He could see the dark crevice that descended down between them.

He could see and feel and taste her pulse. He could hear the blood streaming through her veins like tidal waves crashing through his ears. He had always been so controlled, but, now that she was officially_ his_, the etiquette he had lived by and used as a shield had fallen away.

It was not considered ungentlemanly to make love to his wife.

Bella's hands were in his hair as she stood on her tiptoes, which he had accidentally forced her onto. He lifted his head to peek at her, and her chocolate brown eyes were darker than ever. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. The truth of it was in those eyes, in the uneven intake of her breath.

"Edward," she pleaded.

His hand moved without his consent toward the hem of her shirt. It slipped underneath, finding and caressing the silky skin of her stomach. His thumb dipped over her belly button as it made the slow climb to her breasts, and she shuddered, closing her eyes. His erection took little more than this as provocation, and it was pressed, almost painfully, against the inside of Bella's thigh. Her nostrils flared as she felt it, as she moved just enough to rub herself against it.

He knew his own undoing when he saw it, when he felt it as his hand ducked under the wire of her bra, and his fingers brushed her left nipple for the first time. It was already taut. Bella sucked in her bottom lip as he grazed it, drawing his focus to her mouth.

"Edward? Bella?"

The pair of them froze as the sound of Esme's voice rose through the house outside of their bathroom haven. Edward felt Bella stiffen against him automatically, her eyes popping open, looking pained.

He had forgotten that the very reason they had ducked into the bathroom had been to discuss something out of Esme's range, and Esme had apparently grown tired of being avoided.

"Edward," Bella whispered, "_why won't she go away_?"

She looked so tormented that Edward felt a moment of aching shame pass through his chest. He hadn't had a moment alone with his bride since they'd walked down the isle together. It had been as if the exchanging of rings had ruptured something inside of Esme's usually meek, unobtrusive character. She had been in their hair ever since, as if she was clinging to the last of her babies, to him—Edward—as he was the last of the "children" to find his mate and marry.

Edward shrugged as Esme knocked on the door.

He cleared his throat. "Yes?"

"Can I talk to you for a moment, Edward?"

Bella clutched at his shirt as he attempted to pull away. He looked down at his new bride, reading the reluctance in her gaze. He felt like a man heading to the executioner, his soon-to-be widow begging him to flee with her.

"Tell her we're busy," she whispered.

"Edward." There was an edge to Esme's voice.

His mother had heard Bella's mouse-squeak of a whisper. Bella flushed red at the realization, recalling, a little too late, how acute his family's senses were.

"Of course, Esme," he responded.

Carefully, he peeled back Bella's fingers, freeing himself, and slipped out of the bathroom door. He shut it quietly behind him, leaving Bella alone and quaking with the aftershock of what had nearly come to pass between them.

()()()()()()()()()

Bella had been pining—no, _aching_—for the day that she would be married to Edward. She'd fed herself lies and bullshit about fearing the structure and laws of marriage, but it had all been to mask the angry craving that roared and gnashed its pink lips deep within her twat. She'd studied her ring and shaken her hand in embarrassment at the big daddy of a diamond Edward had thrust onto her finger for an engagement ring, but, secretly, she'd crested over her first orgasm alone in her bedroom, rubbing the slick band of the ring near her clit.

Rings and dresses and wedding bells all meant one thing to Bella Swan: the approaching date of the very first time Edward's glittering schlong would make its appearance. If there was one thing that she had learned during her last eighteen years of celibacy, it was that being a virgin only made you hornier. Especially when you had to daily run the risk of gushing in your pants each time the god from Mount Olympus with bronze hair walked across your path.

All those teasing half-kisses and lusty embraces had built her to this one brilliant climax, and she was finally ready to _get it done_.

_Pop my gloriously sweet cherry, Edward!_ She wanted to exclaim, while she dragged her fingers through his sexy bed hair.

She was ready to expose herself for who she really was, but there was still one final obstacle standing in the way. She couldn't come out about her _Bella Swan, Sex-Addict Extraordinaire_ alias until Esme Cullen got a clue and stopped her twat blocking ways.

Sliding carefully off of the marble sink, Bella tiptoed to the door and pressed her ear against the wood.

"-hate me, is that it?"

"Of course we don't hate you, Esme."

"The two of you have been avoiding me all day, Edward."

"We just—It's not that at all."

"But I cooked her favorite meal. I _cooked_ for her, Eddie. She barely ate anything. She hated it."

"You're overreacting, Esme."

"She hasn't even touched it today."

There was a pause in which Bella could perfectly picture what Edward's face must have looked like. It would be twisted into a mask of anguish, the type that only a true Adonis could make sexy, as he stared at his mother who he found both infuriating and endearing.

Bella knew that her Edward was noble like that, only wanting to please others while his own needs went unmet. At times, Bella wished that he was not so self-sacrificing. She did not believe that she could be the same. It had been a long time since Esme Cullen had eaten a human's meal, and she had no knack for making Bella's favorite dish: mushroom ravioli. It had tasted bland and rubbery, and she would quite possibly become nauseous if forced to sample even a forkful more.

"She hasn't been hungry. That's all. I'm sure she will be more than willing to have more now. I'll get her, and we'll go get some from the kitchen."

"If she hates it, she doesn't have to eat it just to please me," Esme objected. "No need to start pretending to care about pleasing me now."

"Esme."

"What? It's the truth, isn't it?"

Edward released a sigh that made Bella's toes tingle.

"We'll go and heat some up now, Esme. I'm sure Bella is eager for me—er—I mean, _more_."

"Well... if you insist."

()()()()()()()()()

Edward thought it rather valiant of Bella to eat the mushroom ravioli, which he had watched his mother prepare. His little human forced three forkfuls past her plump lips, chewing and swallowing obediently. Though Esme had not pursued them to the kitchen, he was certain that his mother would examine the ravioli dish and estimate how much had been eaten since she'd last inspected it.

When his Bella stood and scraped the rest of her plate out into the trash, he said nothing, but he followed her to the sink as she went to rinse the plate clean of evidence. He reached for the plate.

"Here, Bella, sweetheart, allow me."

His fingers grazed hers, and Bella automatically dropped the plate. It clattered into the sink with the rest of the dirty dishes, but the noise was a hollow sound in the back of his skull as Bella's heartbeat accelerated, and her infectious scent pumped itself into every corner of the room. He felt his mouth water, his tongue curling with the hunger that her anticipation provoked.

Edward looked down at her as she turned into him, her head tilting back so that her eyes could meet his. Her brown hair fell backward, exposing her face and neck. He could see the throb of her pulse. His teeth hurt at the sight.

"Bella." He read the expression in her gaze very clearly. "Don't."

She pushed onto her toes and slammed her mouth against his. It was like an electroshock straight to his senses, alerting every inch of his body to the onslaught he so craved, but also triggering a very dangerous instinct that glorified in Bella's thrusting of herself onto him.

_Right into his web_.

He caught her around her tiny waist as his most primitive of instincts roared to life, and he thrust her against the counter. She squeaked in pain against his lips, but he swallowed the sound of protest hungrily, thrilling in her fear.

His hands skimmed up her sides, over the swells of her breasts, and to her hair. He rolled his fingers into the brown silk and yanked without gentleness. Bella squeaked again, growing aware of the actions she had triggered, of the primitive beast she had awakened.

_How many times had he warned her_?

Oh well, it was too late. There was no going back as he watched her pulse skipping angrily in her throat. He felt her hands on his chest in what he thought would be a fruitless effort to push him away, but a moment of shock registered through the haze of his need as her hands ventured, instead, south, to his pants.

Edward saw a lustful haze of red as Bella fumbled with the button of his pants, searching for a way to reach his erection. She was beautiful and crazy and ignorantly unaware of what he really craved, which was not the sweet velvet pocket nestled between her legs.

He ducked his head and bit her neck. She hitched against him with the angry force of his bite that threatened to break the fragile skin of her throat. His tongue snaked out to taste the chocolate of her neck.

"_Ah-heh-hem_."

The iron rod in his pants deflated immediately, and Edward released Bella's tiny form a second later.

"I told you that it was no good, Edward."

He turned slowly to face his mother, who stood over the pan of ravioli. He could hear Bella's labored breathing behind him, however, and it made it difficult to pay attention to the pan that his mother was waving in his face.

As if she hadn't a clue what she'd walked in on.

"It—I mean, it was—"

"It was delicious, Esme. I'm just...not very hungry," Bella spoke up.

Esme did not so much as glance her way. "I'm right as always, aren't I? And still you can't apologize."

She placed the pan back onto the table with a little more force than necessary. A slimy mushroom oozed over the side of the dish and slipped onto the table where it rested unhappily. Edward looked at it, understanding its unfortunate life.

"I'm sorry, Esme, I—" Edward began, but Esme seemed to hear nothing.

"Very well, perhaps Bella will appreciate my next gift instead."

There was a knock on the front door a room away. Esme finally looked at Bella.

"Get that, won't you, dear?"

Bella nodded meekly and hurried out of the room. When Edward stepped forward to follow, Esme caught him by the arm. She gave him a long, slow look.

"She's rather ungrateful, isn't she?" Esme commented. "Are you certain she was the right choice? There's still Tanya to consider. With your father's money, a divorce would be easy."

Edward was affronted. "No, Esme, I-"

"JACOB!"

Edward stiffened automatically as Jacob Black's scent filtered through the house as a vengeful gust of air blew in with the opening of the front door. Bella's cry of delight was unmistakable, even from this distance. He heard her yell as if she stood right next to him.

"Why would you invite him?"

Esme shrugged. "I just thought you should realize how easily _she_ would choose someone else."

Frowning at his mother, Edward quickly stepped around her, entering the living room to see his wife in Jacob's embrace. The massive wolf-man towered above Bella and held her as if he might swallow her. Finding himself disgusted by the sight of Jacob's nearly nude body, hidden only by a torn pair of shorts, Edward thought that those chiseled abs of his just might swallow Bella whole.

She seemed almost enamored with them as she clung, longer than necessary, to Jacob.

Knowing that his annoyance was showing on his face, Edward looked at Jacob as Jacob lifted his head to look at him. The mutt's thoughts were as clear as day:

_Bet he still hasn't manned up and fucked her yet._

Edward scowled, and he spoke without meaning to, "I was just getting ready to."

"Huh?" Bella questioned, finally turning out of Jacob's arms.

"Nothing," Edward responded irritably just as Esme stepped into the room. "What are you doing here, Black?"

It had been bad enough for Edward that Jacob had shown up at their wedding at the last moment and nearly ruined it. He'd upset Bella so thoroughly with his unruly emotions, his downright objection to their union, that Edward had momentarily believed that the wedding would be canceled immediately. He'd thought that—hoped that—after the vows had taken place, Jacob had disappeared back to where ever he'd run off to before.

Jacob lifted his chin. "Esme invited me over."

Edward's face went suddenly and coldly blank.

()()()()()()()()()

If Edward had never left the godly world that had spit him up on Earth, Bella knew that she would have fallen madly in love with Jacob. As it was, her love for him simmered and didn't flare, but that didn't mean that she couldn't thoroughly appreciate the nice hunk of man meat that Jacob was.

While Edward had a slender, aristocrat body, Jacob was entirely warrior, every muscle built on top of another muscle. The crevices of his tanned abs were more than enough to make Bella hot under the collar, and it was a continuous task to keep from drooling over them when they were in her view. While she held the idea of Edward's sparkly dick on a pedestal, she couldn't dispel the idea that Jacob's would be equally as glorious.

Tucking herself into his warm, expansive hug, Bella lingered against his solid chest, momentarily daydreaming of the family of little wolf pups she could have had with him.

"_Esme _invited you?"

The conversation slowly filtered into Bella's senses, and she stepped back from Jacob's embrace to face the rest of the room. Edward's hauntingly beautiful face was dangerously blank of emotion, while, behind him, Esme's was courting a small, pleased smile.

"Sure," Jacob said. "She told me that you guys were leaving for the honeymoon soon and..."

Jacob trailed off, scowling, telling Bella with a downward curve of his mouth that the werewolf knew exactly what she planned to become at, or after, said honeymoon. She felt a small ache near the pit of her stomach for the fact that, once that part of her fate was sealed, all doors to Jacob would disappear.

"I wanted to see her one more time," Jacob finished, still scowling.

Bella's brows furrowed, her lustful yearnings from earlier dampening as Jacob made it sound as if she was quickly approaching the day of her own funeral. He simply didn't understand the draw of being immortal and beautiful and having big, perky tits. Bella folded her arms across her own unimpressive ones, feeling her meager bra size taunting her.

She needed the beauty of the immortal to really convince herself that she was worthy of Edward. Age was also a factor. No one wanted to die, and no one wanted to fuck a granny when they were still in the years of becoming a young adult.

She didn't want to be a granny.

"I thought Bella might have some unfinished business," Esme supplied. "Come into the kitchen, Jacob. I have some mushroom ravioli I'm sure _you'll_ appreciate."

Bella felt her stomach roll as Jacob took her hand for a quick squeeze and then moved past her to follow Esme into the kitchen. She watched him go, realizing that her mother-in-law had done something a lot like inviting her "ex" over for dinner. She read the anger all over Edward's blank slate of a face.

"Bella," Edward growled through his teeth. "If I killed him, would you hate me?"

"You're not going to kill Jacob," Bella objected. "Esme's the one that invited him in the first place."

Edward drew in a breath through his nose and caught Bella by the arm as she started to head to the kitchen. He pulled her back to him, reeling back in the woman that was the object of his affection, as if to draw her away from his only true competition. She looked up at him with the same expression she had held in the bathroom, pressed between him and the sink. Edward felt his own, same emotions return in the heat of the look, and his dark pupils dilated.

"Edward!"

Bella sighed. She pulled her arm from Edward's grip and headed for what felt like the executioner.

()()()()()()()()

Desperate, furious by the appearance of Jacob, and going blue in the pants, Edward made a very rash decision. Clamping onto his wife's arm once more, he dove for the hallway closet, shoved Bella inside, and shut the door behind them.

"I can't wait anymore," he breathed. "Esme's driving me mad. We're never going to get a second alone. She'll probably follow us to that island."

He sucked in a breath, and continued angrily, "Yesterday she complained about us moving into that cottage, so far away from her. She tried to tell me what color our curtains would be and what shade of makeup looked best on_ you_." He laughed. "Today, she invited Jacob Black over so that he could flash you with his biceps. I won't stand for this. You're my wife, and it's time to have what we want."

Bella flailed momentarily as he shoved her back into the hanging rack of coats in the closet. They gave against her weight, allowing her to sink further back into the depths of the hall closet. They smelled musty and were mostly gray or black. There was one red coat that could only belong to Alice. Bella thought she smelled the female vampire's honeyed scent as Edward pressed into her.

Edward listened to Bella's heart hammering in the small space. It echoed off the walls, and it went nicely with the scent of her blood as it pumped into his senses. He felt his pores opening up, drinking her in. She made a small noise, like a defenseless animal caged by a predator, and it made him almost instantly hard for her.

He pushed against her until her back had been edged against the wall, and then he used his knee to slowly part her legs. She wobbled a little, as if her knees had gone weak, but he held her up, his mind on one thing and one thing only.

He was glad that Alice had urged Bella to start dressing more feminine, especially putting emphasis on skirts. The billowy one that Bella wore now was easy to draw up to her waist. Bella's breath caught in gasps as he trailed his hands over her, hungry for her.

Edward lowered his mouth to her neck, pressing soft kisses to ease Bella into their first true union slowly. He scraped her skin just as softly with his teeth.

"Bella," he whispered.

"EDWARD!" Esme shouted, pounding a fist on the closet door.

It was like realizing that you would never escape death, like the constant suspicion that the grim reaper followed your every step. It was the sort of hopelessness that welled in a plane crash survivors chest when they realized that the island they'd washed up on was deserted, that they were lost even though they had been fortunate enough to live through that disaster. Edward felt the hopelessness open up a black hole inside of his chest with the knowledge that he would not be allowed one second alone with his wife.

Maybe not ever.

"Damn it!" he howled, grinding his teeth together in fury.

Bella screamed in response. It startled Edward, making him recoil in surprise. She screamed like she'd been burned, wailing so loud that it was painful inside the enclosed space of the tiny closet.

"Bella, sweetheart, it will be all right," he attempted to comfort her.

Edward reached for her only to be shoved away as she continued to scream. He blinked, adjusting his eyes again to the dark, and saw that Bella was holding a hand to her neck, that there was _something _on her neck.

It was then that the smell hit him: the thick, unbearable scent of blood. It was all over her neck, all over _his_ mouth. Eyes widening in horror, Edward realized that he'd bitten his lovely human bride's neck when he'd shouted in anger, having been too close to her throat where he had been planting kisses.

"Bella—Bella, I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Sweetheart, this wasn't how I wanted to do this."

Outside in the hall, Esme called, "Edward, why is she screaming like that? My mushroom ravioli is getting cold. Doesn't _she_ care?"

As if in response, Bella's screams were momentarily strangled as she fought to speak through the horrible burn of the venom eating through her veins. He could see the tears in her eyes that were rapidly falling down her face as she sagged against the wall, holding her neck and glaring at him.

"Fucking asshole!" Bella spewed curse words she'd never before said out loud. "It h_uuu_rts! We were supposed to have sex first! You promised!"

"Edward! I'm trying to talk to you! Can you please tell Bella to be quiet? People all the way in town can hear about your sex life!" Esme shouted. "Come out of the closet! The mushroom ravioli! It's getting _cold_!"


End file.
